I feel like I’m stuck somewhere between watching a horror movie from the couch and starring in one. Screaming at the TV, No! Don’t go down that way! The killer is in the house! Yelling at the internet, like ARE YOU SERIOUS? Can you still not see what’s going on? Can you still not see how they’re making us fight each other while they’re destroying our protected lands for money + power + greed of the evil tippy top? While they’re getting away with the very heinous crimes they tell you they’re cleaning up off the streets of our American cities? I’m not a big city gal either, they steal my days, but love em or hate em, they fund the country. Cities are not the enemy. We are not enemies.

https://www.savetheboundarywaters.org

*Rolls up sleeves. Gets to work.* I made it through this life lesson in 2015 after I went viral when Instagram interviewed me for hiking the Appalachian Trail (_{^{yes, I was cool before it was cool}}). You learn a lot about people as you watch total strangers who quite literally don’t know _^shit about you, absolutely TRASH you in the strangest ways, taking their pain out on me, right there on the internet. Woof. Writing is cathartic, but why the name-calling and degrading falsehoods? Ew. Ew. Ew. Pretty gross how easy it is for some people to hardcore double down on lies, even more ick watching others pile on top. Strange behavior. For funzies I interacted with a few of them with some solid one-liner corrections. Check. Mate. Wouldn’t you know it, they still believed what they believed. Fascinating.

*Shakes head.* What am I even doing? I am literally the only person who could know the entire truth, this is _{^{(fake news)}} garbage. And with that, I did not care one bit what they had to say, ever again. Nothing was worth the debate or discussion, because I knew the truth about me, the people who loved me knew the truth. Rumors and lies, are rumors and lies, and I don’t need empty friends. I felt…sorrow for all of them, carrying around all that hate. Must be heavy.

That’s why I only write about my experiences, about my interactions with the world, so people are less inclined to tell me how wrong I am about my own choices. But isn’t it wild, how different we move through the world, depending on our life experiences?

What’s happening in Minneapolis slapped me hard in the face. I really thought it would slap everyone as equally hard in the face, but I quickly learned, it did not. Some people had already been slapped so silly, they’re hanging on by clenched threads + welcoming me to the party, as they claw back up to join me. Some are right there with me, right behind. Others haven’t quite reached their point of action, some never will. And then there’s the active avoiders. But it’s the ones actively cheering on this E V I L, piling on with degrading name-calling, hurling insults, the easiest hit their angry fingers can stab. Laughing emojis at destruction, intentional pain, hate + violence + misfortune. It’s the celebration of horrors that defaces my faith in humanity.

Have I ever mentioned for being intelligent enough, I’m incredibly slow at connecting some big dots? I thought being “woke” just meant you treated all people with dignity, regardless of what they looked like, or who they loved or their accent, or which god they adore, or which bathroom they use. I sat side by side next to Hmong kids kindergarten through graduation, grew up in a house with no god present, 6 people and one bathroom, two boys and four girls all used the same one and nobody got hurt or offended, because we’re all on the same team, right? Go HUMANS!

But now I realize it means woke to the injustices of the world that we allow to happen to our people every single day for a price, because there’s always a price, even if you don’t know you’re paying it. Even if you find out too late, you’ve been paying it all this time. In true fashion of the snake, I shed the veil shrouding my conscious, slid out from the comforts of my carefully constructed nest I fought for, beak by talon by talon. It’s so weird to live in this beautiful palace when the world is on fire.

I tried to drown it out with some local live music around the block. Bluegrass didn’t feel right, but I had to get out of the house, get some fresh air. So I donned a vintage veiled hat and entered the world all in black for a purpose other than the cause. I can’t fake my emotions. I wear it in my face, my eyes, my mouth, my words. A bit dramatic maybe, but dressed as Mourning felt appropriate. I didn’t have to pretend to be happy. I didn’t have to dance to lyrics connected to beautiful times before democracy crumbled. I didn’t have to hide tears or pretend to not know. I could just feel my emotions out loud.

I left early, defeated by the thick realization so many people weren’t there yet, the hopelessness of not knowing if they’d ever be, wondering if they had a line. Mine was Minneapolis. Now it’s hard to prioritize the horrors, even harder to find those wisps of joy. I walked home in my ridiculous faux fur coat in the cold + snowy Wisconsin wind. Greeted by the dogs at the door, always greeted by the dogs, I let them into the neighbors yard.

There it was. My wisps of joy. Old lady Serena play bowing with Bear, the neighbors giant snow white 2 year old puppy, Freddie prancing near them but uninterested in their childish play, off to sniff out the possum, scratching at this, peeing on that, bounding around in the fluffy white snow. All saved from their own personal horrors, now protected from ours. So innocent. They deserve to live in blissful ignorance. Finding no fault with their joy, it was easy to breathe in and enjoy.

What’s strange to me is people keep asking what I’m doing for self-care. THIS is my self-care. I’ve always processed my life through words. When I’m not writing, I’m not processing. And for how depressing the world is, how heavy the realization of what kind of society we live in, the evil that walks among us, on top of us, I’m not depressed. I’m motivated. Maybe it’s just the energy of the fire horse entering Aquarius season. We could use a little ancient astrological witchcraft right about now, you feel me?

I represent what they despise: an independent educated, childless by choice, unmarried by your laws and religions, well to do white woman who doesn’t need a savior cuz she’s got a community. This is my war. This is very likely your war too. Evil is evil. And birds chirp. We don’t know what they’re saying, but other birds do. If you pay attention, you can hear their song.